My husband Pierce Donovan’s newest student, Brooke Miller, wasn't just curious; she was a goddamn investigative journalist of my private life. The first time she was alone with me, she asked if I’d leaked urine after childbirth and if Pierce, the revered professor, still found me sexually attractive. Later, under the guise of "researching the human body," she relentlessly pestered Pierce to let her examine him. It escalated to sending him lingerie photos late at night, asking which set would make a man "get off." Yet, every time I confronted him, Pierce would cite her troubled background as an orphan and insist I show compassion and restraint. "She’s just a curious baby, Scarlett," he’d sigh. I kept my mouth shut. I kept my rage tucked away. Until Christmas Day. I had stepped out with my mother-in-law to pick up a new playing card. When I returned, I found Brooke, not just holding a handful of crushed walnuts, but shoving them into my five-year-old daughter Daisy’s mouth. Walnuts. Daisy has a severe, life-threatening nut allergy. After rushing my daughter to the hospital, the adrenaline of terror gave way to pure, blinding fury. I slapped Brooke across the face. Pierce immediately pulled the sniffling girl into his arms. He looked at me, his handsome brow furrowed in disappointment. "Scarlett, you need to calm down. Why are you attacking a kid who has no family? Brooke was just curious about the reaction. An academic observation, that's all. It’s not like Daisy is permanently damaged." "She’s fine, isn't she?" I closed my eyes, the cold finally seeping into the deepest parts of my soul. If he was going to protect his so-called "curious baby" like this, then the role of the Perfect Wife was officially vacant. 1 "Mrs. Donovan, I really was just too curious." Brooke dabbed at her eyes, leaning on Pierce. "You let me stay in your home for the holidays. If I made a mistake, aren't you the one with the bigger responsibility?" Even Pierce looked at me with a cold, accusing stare. "Brooke is young, Scarlett, and still just a kid. You knew Daisy has allergies, so you shouldn't have any nut products in the house to begin with! This is your fault." Standing outside the emergency room doors, my anger was so extreme it circled back around to a terrifying calm. I just nodded. "You’re right," I said. "It is my fault." My mistake wasn't the nut products. My mistake was suffocating myself for so long, swallowing my justifiable feelings and compromises just to become his Perfect Wife. Daisy has a severe nut allergy, but my mother-in-law loves pecans. To accommodate everyone, I painstakingly prepared all the favorite holiday foods. Now, I realized I was the only person I had forgotten to accommodate. I remembered the past months. Every time Brooke's "curiosity" led to inappropriate behavior with Pierce, I had gently questioned him, only to be met with that familiar, cold irritation. "Scarlett, I'm busy. I don't have time for your silly, jealous games. Brooke is a student, not some mistress. We’re not the disgusting people you think we are." That single sentence—disgusting people—had shamed me into silence and completely crushed my courage to ever question him again. From that moment on, I learned to rationalize their oversteps. I threw myself into being the perfect homemaker and hostess, desperate to earn his public acknowledgment as a "good wife." I had it all wrong. The Perfect Wife gets neither his love, his attention, nor the ability to protect my daughter. Pierce, expecting a fight, looked confused. His expression softened with a complicated mix of relief and subtle condescension. "I’m glad you finally see your mistake." Just then, Daisy was stabilized and rolled out. Her small face was pale, and she was silently mouthing "Mommy" and "Daddy." Pierce, the doting father, took a step toward her. But his step was snagged by Brooke, whose legs suddenly buckled. "Professor, I feel faint…" He looked at his frail daughter, then down at the picture of helpless distress in his arms. He lifted Brooke, cradling her. "Daisy’s stable, Cami. You stay here. I have to get Brooke back to her dorm. She probably skipped breakfast 'to observe the symptoms of hypoglycemia' or some bullshit." He hurried away. Daisy's eyes filled with tears as she was wheeled into the recovery room. She clung to me, her voice a small, broken whisper. "Does Daddy hate me? Why did he hug the bad sister and not stay with me?" Her pale face was marked by the small, red scratches Brooke had left when forcing the nuts into her mouth. "I’m sorry, Mommy. Is it because I’m not a good girl that Daddy doesn’t want to come home? I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good." My heart shattered. I hugged her tight, trembling, telling her over and over that none of this was her fault. That her mother loved her fiercely. The next day, Pierce was supposed to pick us up. He never showed. We were already in the car when he finally called. "The lab is crazy, Scarlett. I can’t leave. Take Daisy home, and I promise, I’ll make it up to her." But through the phone, I heard Brooke's voice, sickly sweet, complaining that her hand hurt and begging him to feed her. The tiny spark of hope in Daisy's eyes died. "Mommy," she whispered. "Can we go to a house with just you and me? Daddy likes my little brother. I don't want a Daddy anymore." Little brother? I froze. Pierce and I only had Daisy. Where would a "little brother" come from? Watching my five-year-old weep, a cold, hard knot formed in my stomach. I didn't hesitate. "Yes," I said, putting the car in drive. "We’re moving today." As I drove Daisy to the first safe place I could think of, I called a private investigator. "I need everything you have on Pierce Donovan and Brooke Miller. Everything. And I need to know if they have a child." The neighborhood was alight with festive decorations, firecrackers popping in the distance. It was a holiday. But when I arrived at the apartment building with Daisy, the security guard stopped me. "Who are you? Gotta have a keycard to get in!" I frowned. "My husband has the keycard, but I'm the owner of unit 603." The guard snickered. "Mistresses are getting bold these days. The owner of 603 is heavily pregnant and definitely does not have a kid that big." I stared at him. That apartment was my property, bought before Pierce. It was our first place, where we lived for three years, packed with the early memories he’d sworn were sacred. He’d promised it would be our "love nest," the place we’d return to when we were old. The deed was in my name alone. I swallowed the rising panic. "I am the owner. I bought the unit eight years ago—" "Get lost!" The guard waved me off impatiently. "Go find a better time for this, lady! I don't care about your story. No outsiders allowed on Christmas." His eyes slid to Daisy, a look of outright contempt that seemed to call my daughter a bastard. The insult was a physical slap. I reached for my phone and pulled up the digital deed. He took his time reviewing it, waiting until a couple passing by paused to watch. Reluctantly, he handed the phone back. "The registration list doesn't have your name, lady. Even if this is real, I need to see you open the door. That's Professor Donovan's home, and you are not going to cause a scene." His arrogant face fueled my sudden calm. "Fine. You can follow me upstairs and watch me open my own front door." I parked the car and took Daisy’s hand. The guard scoffed behind me. "What are you waiting for? Can't even open your own front door, huh?" I extended my finger to the biometric reader. BEEP. Authentication failed. The guard laughed. I tried the keypad, punching in our anniversary. Password incorrect. "Told you you’re a mistress! The owner can't get into her own house? Now take the brat and get out!" The guard lost all pretense of patience and reached out to grab my arm. Daisy screamed, terrified. As I fought to pull away, her small teeth sank into the man's arm. He bellowed and viciously kicked my daughter. Her tiny body slammed against the stone wall. Her head snapped back, and she collapsed. "Daisy!" My vision swam red. I fought desperately against the guards, but all I could do was watch as the man who kicked her raised his security baton high above my unconscious daughter’s head. "Stop!" It was Pierce. My tightly wound body relaxed for a split second. Daisy was still his daughter. He would never allow them to hurt her. But the Pierce who stepped out of the apartment was not the Pierce I knew. He wrapped his arm around Brooke’s shoulders, his expression dark with fury. "Scarlett! I told you that child isn't mine! I’m married! Stop harassing us!" In front of everyone, he hesitated, then pulled out a wad of cash and threw it, hitting my face. "This is charity, for you. Bringing a child out in the middle of winter as leverage? You’re a terrible mother." "Guards, get them out. Don't let them bother me again." I gaped at him, my eyes burning. "Pierce Donovan! This is my apartment. My pre-marital asset—" Before I could finish, he kicked me—hard—in the chest. "Lies! Guards! Are you really going to let an outsider terrorize a resident?" The stunned security officers swarmed me, roughly dragging me and Daisy away. I shielded her body with mine, screaming, my voice raw with heartbreak. "Pierce Donovan! I was blind! I threw away my whole life for you!" For a fleeting second, his eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of panic. But it vanished quickly. Brooke took his hand and placed it on her stomach. I couldn't hear what she said, but I saw the doting, tender smile he gave her. The neighbors' scornful whispers surrounded me. "No shame, trying to claim a married man like that." "Look at the poor kid. Her life is ruined with a mother like that." Out in the ice and snow, my daughter, just recovering from anaphylaxis, was being rushed to the emergency room for the third time in two days. Pierce’s texts popped up on my phone. He claimed that because Brooke had no parents, he was just letting her stay in the apartment temporarily. "Scarlett, don't be ridiculous. If the neighbors find out you're my wife, how is Brooke going to live here? You sound like a screaming shrew, Cami. Where is the calm, gentle wife I married?" Screaming shrew. That final line was the last, cold-blooded blow that shattered the lingering pieces of my love. The 'gentle wife' was a performance, a straightjacket I'd worn for him. Now, I was just raw, furious, and determined. My hands trembling, I called home. "Dad," I said, my voice breaking. "I’m sorry… I made a terrible mistake. I need your help." While Daisy was being treated, I made two major moves. First, I hired a professional legal team and drafted divorce papers that would ensure Pierce left with nothing. I also immediately sold the pre-marital apartment at a deep discount. Second, I had my family cut all hidden financial support for Pierce's university research and, more immediately, instructed the nurse taking care of his paralyzed father to quit immediately. I had been the dutiful, sacrificing wife for so long that I’d almost forgotten the kind of leverage and freedom Scarlett Blake once possessed. The day the nurse left, Pierce called dozens of times. When I finally answered, his voice was tired and frantic. "Scarlett, where are you?! My father has been lying in his own filth for a day, the place is covered in dirty clothes and trash, the fridge is empty!" I listened, unmoved. "I’m with my daughter. She's recovering." His rant paused. His voice went husky. "I... I forgot. How is Daisy? I'm coming right now—" His words were cut off by a girl's soft squeal, then the sound of urgent footsteps and a lingering kiss. I hung up, expressionless. He didn't deserve to see our daughter again. He didn't deserve any genuine human emotion. Pierce didn't visit the hospital once during Daisy’s stay. He only rushed in when I was checking her out, right before our flight. "I'm so sorry, Scarlett. Home has been a total mess without you. I finally realize how much you do. When we get back—I promise, I'll make it up to you and Daisy." He knelt, forcing a weary smile onto his haggard face. "Daisy, sweetie, can Daddy hold you now?" My phone buzzed, saturated with texts from Brooke. "You know why the Professor hasn't visited? I passed the three-month mark today! I told him I was curious about pregnancy sex, so he stayed in bed with me for seven days straight!" I looked up. There was a faint red mark just beneath Pierce’s collar. But this time, no emotion stirred in my chest. Daisy looked at Pierce, hope and fear warring in her eyes. She hugged my leg and whispered to me. "Mommy, can I just hug Daddy once? Then I really don’t ever want him again." I stroked her hair and agreed. I left for only a moment to grab our belongings from the room, but when I returned, Pierce and Daisy were gone. I screamed her name, running hysterically down the halls. I stumbled around a corner, and a sharp, paralyzing pain exploded in the back of my skull. Darkness. I woke up in a freezing warehouse. Daisy was strapped into a restraint chair with electrodes. Her mouth was taped shut. She was crying hysterically, her face beet red, struggling for breath. "Professor, they say shock treatment makes kids smarter. Just let me try it, please?" I was paralyzed by shock. "Pierce Donovan, are you insane?! She called you Daddy! And you're going to electrocuteher?!" Pierce's eyes flickered with a hint of remorse, but it vanished as Brooke started to weep pitifully. "Professor! If I don't satisfy my curiosity, I won't be able to eat or sleep! My tummy hurts right now!" At the mention of her stomach, Pierce was instantly focused on her, his face a mask of panic. "Okay, okay, anything you want…" "Brooke Miller, don’t you touch her! If you hurt Daisy, I will rip you to pieces—" SMACK! A stinging blow split my lip. Blood bloomed on my chin. I stared at Pierce in utter disbelief. He was snarling. "Daisy wouldn't listen to a damn thing I said! I just asked her to call Brooke 'Mommy,' and she bit her! She bit her!" Brooke seized the opportunity, cuddling into his side. "The bite hurts! Shock treatment doesn't just make them smart, it makes them obedient. Professor, I want to play!" The "bite" was a tiny, unbroken red mark on her arm. I screamed and struggled, the ropes around my wrists cutting deep, drawing blood, but I couldn't stop Brooke from flipping the switch. A current surged. Daisy cried out, instantly losing control of her bladder, convulsing, and passing out. But Brooke wasn't finished. She cranked the dial up and hit the switch again. Daisy was only five! She started foaming at the mouth, her entire body twitching violently. Brooke laughed, picking up a metal rod and whipping it across Daisy's face. Daisy woke up, screaming in raw pain. "Shut up! Stop crying! Tell me you'll listen to me!" But a five-year-old child could only cry for her mother. My heart was hemorrhaging. "Stop it! Stop, you monster!" Seeing Daisy’s continued tears, Brooke's eyes hardened. "How will you ever be a good big sister if you don’t learn obedience? You’re going to get a good lesson this time." She reached for the highest-voltage switch. Pierce didn't see it, but I saw her look at me, a silent, vicious challenge in her eyes. "Your daughter is going to die." "NO!" Just as her finger made contact with the button— The warehouse doors were violently kicked open. Highly trained men in black suits swarmed the room, instantly tackling Pierce and Brooke to the floor.
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